being dysfunctional was like a friend
It sticks to you
Pushes you to bed even when the sun rises and sets

Being dysfunctional was a disease
I saw my friend being pulled to the bed
Weeks later I saw the death stains in the bed wondering how much she was bleeding inside

Being dysfunctional was a prison
My thoughts swam around me with my blurred visions
My head feels heavy
My legs ache

Being dysfunctional was simply scary
How long was I going to be pulled into bed
Only for me to be discovered without a soul